Tempo and Rhythm
by Mariagoner
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing... Jo/Laurie, warnings for strong sexual content later on.
1. Chapter 1

This little mini-series is written for my friend **Potix** who, besides being thoroughly awesome and a wonderful reader, also is a graphical genius who is very, very generous in making all sorts of banners and icons for me. She wanted to see Jo and Laurie have a hell of a lot of fun after a bit of playful arguing and by God... she's going to get it. And on a piano as well, just because I feel Jo and Laurie are awesome enough together to attempt it. I hope you enjoy this, dear heart!

Additional thanks go to Ed, Saf and Elizabeth for helping with the smoothing out of various details (_especially_ concerning the relative sturdiness of a grand piano) and much love also goes to MichelleK, whose 30 Rock fic (titled And You're Better Than Jeff and Maury) first gave me the idea for piano sex and talking about talent. Thank you for giving me permission to follow up on your brilliant idea!

And as always, reviews are much loved. Please do let me know if you've read and enjoyed this, or thought of ways to improve it!

**Title: Tempo and Rhythm, Part 1/3  
Fandom: Little Women  
Series: Tempo and Rhythm  
Characters/Pairings: Jo/Laurie  
Rating: R for Sexually Explicit Talk In This Chapter  
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing...**

**Note:** This is a Little Women fic that contains on-screen sex in the second chapter. Readers are warned for explicitness and rough (though thoroughly consensual) play. It also can be read as a follow-up to the universe of the Night to Remember and 20 Different Ways series, which depict a marriage and partnership between Jo and Laurie. Those fics do _not_ need to be read to understand this one, however.

* * *

The trouble with Jo, her husband decided on one otherwise promising summer eve, was that her mind was of such a quality that it often escaped understanding.

It wasn't that she wasn't a diamond of the first water in terms of brilliance, of course. Whatever else Laurie had ever thought of her-- and he had loved her and hated her with many shades of ardor over the years-- he had never thought her anything less than a writer of astonishing creativity. Under Jo's command, attics had turned into medieval castles, dull parties in high society turned into hilarious affairs where pretensions were inevitably misplaced and the pretentious wonderfully mislaid, his carefully planned compositions was turned into glittering operettas for the stage, and sheets of papers and a well of ink were turned into fantasies and memoirs that delighted children and adults all the way from stodgy New York to Gay Paree. He had never met anyone who had the same capacity for transformation that she did-- and had never been entranced so by any other either.

Unfortunately, Jo's narrative cunning also lent itself to making a fuss over what ought to be simple, which had led to trouble in the past and was obviously leading her to trouble right now. This tendency had once led her to dismiss his first offer of marriage by telling him he needed some shining paragon of refined femininity to be happy, instead of merely telling him that she wanted to try out the life of a single writer for a time, which would have saved them both a great deal of grief. And once in a while, even after they had settled into a happy domestic routine in their brownstone in New York, it flared up and made life alternately aggravating and exciting.

This evening appeared to be one of those times, with Jo having brooded over some matter or another for the past few days, which Laurie did not begrudge since he knew the value of a good brood but which still concerned him slightly. And certainly, after she had spent the last few nights in their bed lavishing more care on her thoughts than on his frame, it was hard not to come to the conclusion that maybe-- just maybe-- he ought to take care.

It was an impression that was compounded by the distracted way she paced around by his piano as he played, added to by the way she sighed dramatically as she stalked and stared, and augmented by the way she kept sneaking looks at his calm profile all throughout, as though she were expecting him to leap up and accuse her of something.

Given all that, Laurie probably should have been expected a curve ball of some sort soon thrown his way. Life with Jo had long taught him to always be ready to embrace the eccentric, the new, the previously unheard of and the strange. One did not marry a Jo March, after all, and then expect her to water down the imagination that made her so wonderful in the first place.

Still, even he had to pause when Jo stepped in front of his piano at last, her slender figure outlined enchantingly against her thin nightdress when the candles lit her a certain way. And when she let out the words she'd been brooding on for the week...

"You know," his beloved wife poignantly sighed as his slim fingers worked industriously at his piano's ivory keys. "Sometimes I get the feeling that you're so talented, you must be ashamed of me."

...Laurie was forced to acknowledge that even after four years of the most topsy-turvy, exquisite and extraordinary marriage imaginable, she could still surprise him completely.

In fact, it was _only_ the fact that Laurie knew this new composition of his by heart that kept his fingers from sliding off well-loved keys with the shock of her words, and then from the laughter following close on its heels. Still, it was close for a minute, nearly stretching to many minutes, and his playing still glided off in a way that would have had his pianist mother, were she here to see it, raise one eyebrow at him in pained incredulity.

But then, Laurie knew he ought to be glad that his dear _madre_ wasn't around to see this. For one, there was the fact that he only had his night trousers on, as the time for bed approached swiftly. For another, his Jo merely wore a white cotton night-dress, which hid pleasingly little under the lights presently. And for the last, the combinations of the first and second reasons affected him deeply enough that he knew that this balmy summer's eve would play host to something much more interesting than a piano recital.

This was indeed the sort of scenario which many a parent would have been lucky to escape without seeing... and incidentally, that many a man would have paid to be within. Which was why Laurie's voice was positively languid when he finally replied, however much he was weighed down by surprise.

"Truly, Jo? I've honestly always thought that between us two, you were the one with the talent worth coveting."

As always, though, his wife was the sort who treated compliments as insincere pleasantries at best and potential traps of the most mischievous sort at worst, especially when he offered them freely. So rather than simply smile and accept his statement, she turned the exact shade of pink that Meg's begonias went in the spring and aimed her tart tongue back at him. "Oh, come on. I know it's nice to repay respond to a woman's concerns with flattery, but this is you simply being a chevalier. Be honest, Teddy! Admit that out of the two of us, you are by far the more interesting human being."

"Not at all," he replied lightly, his fingers still running slowly over his keys. "I admit to no such thing. I know you don't like compliments but I can assure you that you're completely brilliant in your art, so much so that you far exceed me. Who else can turn mere parchment into Pickwick's papers, transform dull parties into something worth attending, and fashion my little drips of music via your librettos into operettas worth seeing?"

Not one to be routed so easily, Jo sniffed and then turned so that her hand rested on the rim of his piano, her fingers mimicking his as she tapped against the wood impatiently. "You had to play-act in the first, you keep me from complete humiliation in the second _and_ you write all the original score for and edit the third. So you're an actor, a savior and a composer at the same time I'm a writer, a bungler and-- oh, this is a real change!-- a writer some more. So..."

And now she leaned forward to give him a smile smug enough to feel in his hip pocket.

"So which of us is _really_ more talented, my dear?"

Laurie had to shift on his bench cushion at that, which cost him valuable minutes in the little game they were playing. Luckily, however, he found a response springing to his lips quite easily, before his much loved bride could waltz away from this armed confrontation sure she had brought him to his knees.

(And not in that pleasurable way that made her moan ecstatically either.)

"So measuring talent," he asked, leaning over as his fingers finally stilled, "has everything to do with quantity, not quality?"

Jo's eyebrows arched up at that, as sure sign that she was being thrown off by his words and did not much like it either. "And what, exactly, do you mean?"

"Think of it,' he said, years of loving Jo having taught him when to push forward. "Yours is a very flawed logic! Can a jack of all trades in a thousand different positions really count himself as more talented than a man whose mastered a single art fully? I may be this and that and a pile of rags but you, Jo-- _you!_ You are a true talent at your craft. You are more honed at writing than I will ever be at all these other things."

For a minute, he thought he saw a smile flicker among Jo's thin, fervent features, but in the next, her mask of indignation slammed back on and she drew her hands marmishly up as though to flick his words away.

"And that may all be well and good but that does not apply to either of us two. I'm so far from a master of my art it's ridiculous-- and you, Laurie-- _you!_ You're brilliant at your own art for all your protests and coupled with all your other positives-- oh, it burns me to think of being your inferior at so many things. I feel as though I need to prove my creativity anew!"

He could see that there would be no dissuading her and so gave in, his attention now fully on her though he sat at his bench still. "Well, I suppose that's... rather optimistic of you. Downright commendable, really, as long as you can keep from destroying property while that goal's achieved. So now what will you do?"

"What I have to," Jo replied, drawing herself up and ever closer to him, until she nearly bumped against his piano bench with her knees. "Because I don't want to feel as though I'm not worthy of you, especially not since I'm stuck with you. You're already better looking than I am--"

"Only if one happens to be a woman."

"Used to be of a higher rank--"

"And just when did we start counting?"

"Started off far wealthier than I did--"

"I always thought you were rich in both spirit and body."

"Have always been taller among us two--"

"I have no idea what that has to do with anything."

"And are so much more socially adept than I could ever be!"

"Well, that's-- that's-- all right, I'll give you that, frankly speaking."

"So," Jo went on, eye-balling him fiercely in wait of further interruptions, "I can't be getting on with a healthy sense of esteem if you out-do me in creativity as well. So now I want to show you that I can at least match you in grand plans and ambitions. And so, I have a proposal for you, to show you just how inspired my mind can be!"

"Therefore," Laurie replied, his mind spinning at her litany, "you would like to...?"

And then Jo made his night-- his week-- his month-- his _year_ with the words she delivered then, her hips cocked to the side and her hands upon them, looking down at him triumphantly.

"Let's make love on the piano!" she cried, and her voice was siren-like and electric. " On _your_ piano. Let's do it like we've never done it before, until we've done near everything! Let's give Cathy and her cruel Heathcliff or even Darcy and his Elizabeth something to compete again. Let's do something mad and bad and dangerous and passionate while we're still young and can get away with it!"

"..." Laurie tried, struck dumb with surprise and incredulous joy, and then felt alarmed as he felt the chance slip away as her face began to crumble in front of his awe-struck silence. "... ... ...!" he tried to assent urgently.

"Is that a no?" Jo said after a few moments of pathetic silence, sounding crestfallen though she tried to hide it. "That's-- well-- that's fine, really. Fine definitely! I know it's not very-- ladylike of me to have even suggested it and I was being vulgar to think of it and-- just despicable, truly. It's-- I mean-- it was really quite a foolish idea and-- and who knows, maybe I'm heavy enough to break down a grand piano and-- honestly, I don't know why I even thought this would-- please you greatly and-- I should really shut up now, you know, I don't even know why I keep talking--"

He didn't know why either, especially given the fact that his own voice had gone out. But before she could talk herself out of the brilliant idea that she'd introduced-- Laurie had always known she was a marvel but this took the walk by a couple thousand feet-- he rose from his bench, took her to him by the curve of her hips, and showed her precisely how brilliant he thought she could be.

It turned out to involve a great deal of tongue but curiously, not much speaking.

It also involved a great deal of movement as well, and as much use of his hands as when he had played the piano a moment previously. In fact, it even involved the use of much the same movements, although the glide of his fingertips across ivory keys didn't feel nearly as good as getting to run them across the fabric of Jo's night-dress, pulling it up until he could caress the strong muscles of her calves, the sweet velvet of her inner thighs, the warmth and weight of her waist and breasts, not wasting any time when his instrument—make that _instruments_-- were ready to be used and she was letting him peel thin cotton off her hips and belly and shoulders as she began laughing, enchanted or possibly just amused by his obvious eagerness.

Laurie didn't quite know and furthermore, Laurie didn't fully care. It was more than enough, just then, to have her gathered naked next to him, more than enough to have her bare and golden beside him, more than enough to pull her to him and run his eager hands all over her nape and spine and the ripples of her ribs as she parted her lips and her tongue caressed his. It was more than enough when even a simple kiss becomes something that made him groan and shift when she followed every innocent little flicker of her lashes across his cheeks with clever authorial fingers pressed against his bare chest, her own fingers twisting sharp against his nipples, pinching and driving him to his toes until he felt like simply throwing her to the floor and forgetting all consideration.

Jo had a way of testing his self-control and it was only the thought of his piano standing near-by that kept him from doing so. And if the look of pure mischief that flashed through her face meant anything, it meant that she'd easily caught onto it.

(Although the way she kept sliding her bare, slender leg between his hips to toy with his growing desire might have had something to do with it. She was going to be the death of him someday—but oh, what a _glorious_ death she would make.)

"So I'm assuming you'd actually liked to go through with this?" Jo murmured with an innocence that would have been a little more convincing if she hadn't followed it up by running her mouth down his neck, making him shudder and buck against her even when his hands falling down on her lush lower curves made her twist sharply against him. "I guess you don't think-- _oh!_-- that I'm so… so… wanton as to disregard… fully?"

"Oh no," Laurie murmured through the slight catch in his throat as he felt her fingers trail down his chest to the firm muscles below. "You could never be wanton enough to make me do something as mad as that."

Jo sent him a look through her dark lashes that made his mouth go dry—though some of that could have been because of the way her nails raked down his hips as she sent them to hook into the brim of his trousers teasingly. "You seem to be a bit hot and bothered, Teddy. Are you sure you're well enough to keep going?"

"Appearances can be _very_ deceptive," he responded, even as his fingers migrated from her rippling back to her bare collarbone and down to her breasts, cupping the soft curves while feeling the strong muscles beneath them, like silk draped over steel. "I'd be ready for anything right now. Ask me to climb a glass mountain and I'll start immediately."

"We'll hold off on that until we need to fetch the Holy Grail," Jo replied sweetly, and any sting her words might have held anyhow were washed away by the warmth of her mouth as she went for that particular bundle of nerves hidden below his jaw that always sent him gasping. "And… you really think this is a good idea?"

And who else but Jo could have aimed such a question at him even when he was all but quick-silver in her arms—and meant it sincerely? Who else but Jo could doubt herself when she sent him all but melting?

Who but Jo—but then, what did it matter? It wasn't as though he wanted to share this with any other being.

So he laughed, ran his hands down the silk of her back again and said: "I think it's a bloody fantastic idea, Jo—as well a _terrific_ way to demonstrate your artistic reach."

And then, after he backed away, kicked his piano bench down with his heel to make room in the front and beckoned her to him again, he smiled once more, and it was a smile that promised several very wicked things.

"So come forward, cuckoo bird. Let's get on with the creativity."

* * *

**Author's Note**: As always, reviews are much loved and appreciated. Please do let me know if you've enjoyed reading this story. Not that many people seemed to like my last NC-17 Jo/Laurie fic so... here's to hoping people like them better when they're not angsting continuously. ;)

With luck, I'll have part 2 up sometime next weekend, if I can hopefully get Internet access then. (I'm moving around that time and it'll be a real right pain in the rear.) I'll do my best for you, Poti!

(And a question to the audience if they'd like to answer: What other scenes from Jo and Laurie's married life would you read about, explicitly or non-explicitly? Give me your ideas and if any catch my fancy, I'd be happy to use them!)


	2. Chapter 2

It took me forever and a day to update this, thanks to school, work and a very persnickety sex scene that truly tested the sturdiness of Laurie's piano... but finally, I'm done with the second part of Tempo and Rhythm. _Potix_, I hope you don't mind waiting so long for this bit! And Elizabeth, thank you for helping me out with this piece as always! In any case, I do hope people enjoy this bit o' smut and play. I hope it's a nice way to exorcise some of the dullness of the fall season. ;)

As always, reviews are much loved. Please do let me know if you've read and enjoyed this, or thought of ways to improve it!

**Title: Tempo and Rhythm, Part 2/3  
Fandom: Little Women  
Series: Tempo and Rhythm  
Characters/Pairings: Jo/Laurie  
Rating: R for Soft-Core Sex; NC-17 Rated Version at my livejournal (see Author's Note)  
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing...**

**Note:** This is the R-rated version of the story, with around 2,000 words edited out in order to allow me to post on this site. If you'd rather NOT skip over the explicit sex to linger on the emotional convulsions, you can read the explicit NC-17 rated version of this story at my livejournal. If you can't locate it through the link in the author's note,_ leave me a review and I'll mail you a link to the more explicit version of the story. _Please do not PM or email me-- it's much easier for me just to respond to reviews from readers, frankly.

***

No matter what Jo said to the contrary, Laurie knew that he had fallen in love with her the first time he had ever clamped eyes on her truly.

His skeptical wife, of course, had a habit of being very cynical whenever he tried to be romantic with her-- at least when his version of romance had a tinge of conventionality. As she had told him in the past when they had gone over the subject, she thought the idea of love at first sight was romantic dross that only existed to peddle romance novels and make people unhappy. True love, she fiercely maintained, only came from knowing a person and loving them despite the inevitable annoyances. Otherwise, a person might as well fall in love with the phantoms in their head-- they had about as much reality as the inevitably mislaid perfections they gave to pretty strangers who they imagined loving based on nothing more than a look, a glance, a dress or a pretty saying.

Which was all fine and good, Laurie knew, and certainly he loved Jo more now when he knew her inside and out than when she had been merely a bright figure leaping about in windows across from his grandfather's manse, a luminous and lively fairy of a figure who had captivated the lonely young boy next door weeks before their first real meeting. But no matter how well Jo argued against it, Laurie knew he had truly loved the young girl he had known only by the energetic shadow she cast in front of his eyes, even before he saw her fully. Even then, before he knew her name or her eyes or the radiance of her smile, he had known that he loved that girl, that he wanted to be with her, that she might well be the happy home and the loving family he had lost to fever in Italy.

Of course, if he had known that he'd eventually be hoisting that joyous young spirit up by her waist until she just barely rested on the covered keyboard of his piano and the shelf right above it, her balance only maintained by her fierce grip on his shoulders and the way her lovely, sinuous legs wrapped and flexed around his finally uncovered hips, her beautiful little nipples tight and her dark, velvety aureoles brushing against his chest as they exchanged eager, ardent kisses, her nails precariously raking down his spine every time he moved forward and ran his eager tongue across her wicked jaw, down her shuddering neck, past the pearly line of her collar and then down the glittering path of damp heat between the valley of her breasts...

Well, first he would have congratulated his older self on a job very, _very_ well done. But after that, he'd tell his eventual wife the first evening they met each other that he'd been right after all and rather than dickering around for years on end, they might as well go ahead and get married at the ripe old age of fifteen.

In fact, Laurie had half a mind to say as much to Jo right now, and might have gone through with it if only she hadn't cleverly distracted him. And a thorough job she did of that as well-- moaning so touchingly as his teeth bit down on her collarbone, his tongue working at the heated skin there even as one of his hands slid from his hips and began working at the silky line of flesh right beneath her mons venus, the same fingers that had been at work on piano keys earlier slicking between her nether lips and drawing out gasps and sighs and calls for more from her, until he was much too distracted to coherently think...

Really, Laurie thought as she wound her legs more tightly around him and drew him forward against the warmth of her belly, would the perfidy of womankind never fully cease?

If all that wasn't quite enough, she had begun talking again, in that way that had never ceased exciting him quickly. He thought he would never tire of hearing her warm voice go throaty and low in that way it only did became when they did this, going hoarse with that certain timber and tone she reserved only for him, the one that sent heat spiraling to him just as much as the feel of her entire body arching and opening up to him... as though she were a flower blooming only for his needs.

And of course, the words she began to whisper didn't help to corral his excitement much either.

"Oh please," Jo was whispering, _pleading_-- and when did she ever plead, except when she needed him fully and completely? "Oh please, oh Teddy, I want this so _badly,_ oh God, please don't deny me...!"

The fact that she ended that plea by keening as the fingers of his right hand worked their way within her-- his thumb rolling against her throbbing core even as three of his other fingers penetrated her slick warmth-- didn't exactly make her words any less intriguing. She was as welcoming as ever deep within, even as her long limbs clutched him to her skin, and it was all too tempting to just press her thighs apart, pull back his fingers, and simply go at it, the both of them rutting against his piano like animals until the heat between them spilled over completely.

But Laurie knew all too well that if he gave in and just drove into her as his senses were screaming to, this would be over in about five minutes, if he could even last under conditions as they were currently. And as extraordinary as those minutes might be, he wanted this to last. After all, it wasn't all the time when he got to unite two of his greatest pleasures: music and making his wife cry out for him as she lost control fully.

So instead, gathering his fraying self-control up like armor, Laurie pulled back, cocked an eyebrow at her and said, with a possibly unforgivable amount of jauntiness:

"But what if I want you to show me how much you want me?"

He honestly thought she would hit him after the words registered, when his fingers pulled away from her delicious inner coils and she was left looking between her thighs in surprise, as though unsure of what had happened and why the source of her pleasure had disappeared so abruptly. In fact, so great was the shock in her face that it was all Laurie could do not to laugh and bring this evening to a _very_ abrupt conclusion indeed.

"What?" Jo finally managed, after looking thunder-struck for a moment longer. "Who-- what-- when-- why-- what on _earth_ do you mean?"

"It's just... well..." Laurie had to hesitate at that, knowing precisely what he desired but not quite sure how to phrase it in a way that wouldn't have Jo blanching away in shock. Finally, he tilted his head and tried for sensitivity. "It simply seems as though this scenario's been on your mind for a while and it'd be a shame for us not to... ah... _utilize_ it fully. So instead of rushing through this as though we're in a hurry, why not spend some time acquainting ourselves with the present... equipment?"

Jo did not blanch but she did look at him with a fair amount of shock, as though he had just interrupted her by slapping her across the face with a wet fish. "We've been married for four years, Teddy. I think I'm well aware of your equipment already!"

"That's a fair point," Laurie conceded, knowing it was his fault he hadn't been clear. But then he went on, leaning forward intimately. "But you don't know not _all_ the equipment well, Jo-- especially not the one you're writhing on so delightfully. And besides..."

And really, if he had known earlier in his life that Jo had habit of biting her lip when she wanted something carnal and didn't know how to deal with it, life would have been _much_ easier. If only he had known as much at the age of fifteen!

He took her tempting lower lip in his own mouth, sucking on the thin curve and nibbling with his own teeth until she sighed and let him press against her again, his ready prick pressed intimately to the warmth of her belly. And when he finally spoke again, she looked at him with hazy, languorous eyes that made her look as though she might be ready for _anything_.

It was enough to make any husband try his luck, and he'd always been impetuous indeed. So grinning against her mouth, Laurie went on. "You're already putting on a brilliant performance for me, Josie, and I don't want it to end so quickly. So, if you don't mind, maybe you could...?"

"Oh," Jo murmured even as she shifted tortuously against him. "Does that mean you want me...?" And when he grinned again and mimicked the movement he wanted to see with her hand, a blush overspread her high cheeks even as understanding lit in the great gray fields of her eyes. "Oh! Oh, Teddy, do you really want me to...?"

He interrupted her with another slow, dreamy kiss, one that found her lower lip trapped between his teeth once more as he rolled his hips against her, until they were both shuddering. And when he pulled back, his gaze was hungry and dark and half-hidden beneath his sooty lashes, calculated to drive his wife mad with longing.

"You're the raw materials that fantasies are made of, Jo," he murmured against her mouth, feeling her hands tremble as she raked them through his hair urgently. "Would it be too much to ask you to do this if you pleased?"

"If you're going to ply me with empty compliments again..." Jo warned, although her face and breasts had gone promisingly rosy and she was already leaning back on his piano's closed front, her eyes half-hidden by shadows as the candles in their room burned warmly.

"Believe me," Laurie interrupted, "by the time you're finished and I come at you, you'll see that they aren't empty."

And when she finally laughed, nodded assent and let herself fall back fully open to him, still supported by his hands on her hips and the frame of his piano, Laurie let his eyes lower to watch her as she began performing for him slowly.

It had taken them both a lot of trust to come to this point, to help Jo move beyond her nigh-Puritanical education (or lack thereof) on what was and wasn't acceptable between a man and a woman who were in love and happily married. Even after their first night of intimacy together-- a night Laurie had some very, very fond memories of but which had not exactly gone smoothly-- Jo had often been paralyzed between her passionate inner nature and the messages she had received from childhood about decent women not doing much more than passively accepting their husbands' occasional, shameful needs. Still, as time went by, Jo had learned to make love with a daring and a boldness that drove Laurie half out of his mind with desire, and made him think of the more laissez-faire mores of Italy, where women did not restrain themselves quite so ridiculously. And as they grew closer and learned more of one another, she had become become more and more open with him, letting him show her how to please them both, letting herself touch him as she pleased, letting him explore every delicate pore and follicle of her body with his hands, his lips, his prick, and his teeth.

But she'd only touched herself for him a handful of times before, usually after a great deal of tenderness and coaxing. And although Laurie could not quite explain it even to himself, there was something about watching Jo-- his Jo! so shy when it came to love before!-- spread herself out for him and caress herself between her own thighs with soft, trembling fingertips that seemed even more intimate than other acts of carnality.

Of course, the fact that she was also stroking herself in front of him while splayed out in front of his piano added to the effect. Laurie's inner fifteen year old was now dumb with shock and possibly hyperventilating.

Thankfully, Laurie's outer twenty-eight year old self was a little more level-headed. His breath a hiss between his teeth, he leaned back, gripped her waist, and watched her touching her own body with almost feverish avidity.

She was beautiful when she was like this, so beautiful and so tempting, so eminently touchable when every nerve in her body seeming to sing as she stretched out and pleasured herself, fingers curved against her own velvety skin. With her head back and her neck exposed to his lips, she rocked and moaned and arched enticingly against him, the back of her thighs pressing tight against his own body every time she shifted towards him, her long lashes fluttering against her high cheekbones as she threw herself into this as she did every other thing.

She had touched herself for him only a handful of times before-- but she had never performed for him as she did now, as though she wanted him to share in her own ecstasy. She had never before done it without him needing to first stimulate his own pleasure before she shared hers with him, and even then hesitantly. And she had certainly never before looked him in the eyes as she had done it, gray eyes meeting dark ones as she trailed her fingers to the rosettes of her cheeks to the set of her shoulders, from the line of her throat to the lush curve of her breasts, from the ripples of her ribs to the little dimple of her navel, from the dark curls between her thighs to the hidden folds of warmth just beneath...

With her slender legs curving like parabolas around his hips and her wild and unbound hair flowing around the both of them, she could have been a goddess from his native land: Juno on fire to tempt back her husband or Diana hunting down her prey in a distant land or Minerva passing judgment on the man who had pinned her down at last. She could have been the goddess of marriage or the hunt or of wisdom as she ran her hands all over her candle-lit skin, her gaze piercing as she lifted her dear face to look up at him, flushed and blushing but determined to please, always willing to throw all of herself into a moment.

And then she slipped the fingers of one hand between the curls of her sex as she used her other hand to draw him close by his hair and she was none other than Venus, goddess of desire herself, making his blood boil in his veins as he watched her stroke herself to completion again.

"Is this what you want?" Jo whispered, her fingers curving intimately inside her as he insouciantly lowered his eyes and watched her, his breath stuttering within his throat as she watched him gaze at her without hesitation or fear. "Is this what you wanted to see, Teddy? Is this what you need from me?"

And then, fingers still at work at her folds as her other hand dug into his scalp and brought his lips so close to hers they were nearly at a kiss, she asked: "Am I fulfilling your fantasies?"

And he would have answered except his control broke at long last-- and instead of replying with whatever inadequate words he could grasp, he seized her by her hips, lifted her to the air, and then pushed her sharply down on that part of him that was aching for her already.

* * *

_(scene break for explicit content)_  


* * *

  
And though he wanted more, though he wanted to hold her for just a little longer, though he wanted to keep on moving within her, wanted to make her keep shuddering until she was aching--

Though he wanted, he knew he couldn't, whatever else his other desires might be. He couldn't, he simply couldn't-- no matter what he might, or how good he might strive to be. For though everything they did was something they had done hundreds of times before-- in beds across Europe, in the wilds of Massachusetts, in Laurie's old bed-room and in the March's private parlor and in front of Jo's beloved attic screen-- this was different, wonderful and different, something he could never shared with any other being. This was different because _she_ was different-- different and impossible and wonderful and unfathomable and he had chosen her because of all of these things. This was different because he loved her even when he couldn't understand her; different because every lunge he took at her reminded him of his love, different because he knew now that she had chosen this without him needing to coax her, that she had been fantasizing about doing this with him for days or weeks or months or maybe even _years_--

And somehow that was enough-- _more_ than enough-- more affecting even than their bodies moving in tandem as she broke as well, crying his name in his arms and pulling him close as she clenched against him desperately. Somehow, that thought was enough-- more even than the warmth of her skin or the heat of her lips, the press of her breasts or the tightness around his prick-- to make him collapse and shudder and break at last, his eyes sliding closed at last but the image he had of her splayed out against his piano emblazoned in his mind's eye completely.

Somehow that was enough-- _more_ than enough-- more than enough to know she loved him and wanted him so dearly--

And when he finally finished inside his Jo, he pressed his face to hers even as he pulled back and came against the warmth of her body and the wood of his piano, both of them welcoming and supporting him in the shaky moment afterward, as though determined to bring him back home.

***

**Author's Note**: As always, reviews, comments and feedback is much appreciated, although I know the fandom has been slow as of late. (Not that I can blame anyone for that fact!) Did you enjoy the smut? Is it better or worse than the wedding-night scene in the last part of A Night to Remember? Was the, er, climactic part all right? I worry that that bit might have fallen victim to a certain hastiness in writing...

Remember, there _is _an uncut version of this story at my livejournal. If you want access to it and cannot find it on your own, _please review this story and tell me you want it! _Otherwise, here is the link to the explicit version of the story:

http :// mariagoner . livejournal . com / 184355 . html

It will be locked to the general public (or at least, those who don't contact me) in a few weeks because I'm very paranoid about livejournal's strange new policies toward 'adult' material. But until then, enjoy!

In any case, thanks once again for reading. I have much less time in fandom than I used to but I still am enjoying the hell out being an active part in it. Reading and writing Little Women fic is a hell of a lot more enjoyable than reading up on psychoanalysis, I can tell you that! In any case, I'm going to attempt to put part 3 up sometime in November. I just hope people keep reading even after the smut is done. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

This has long been overdue and I only regret I had to wait until the new year to put it up. In any case, I do hope readers still enjoy. And much love goes to Potix, my original inspiration for the series. I hope you enjoy, darling!

**Title: Tempo and Rhythm, Part 3/3  
Fandom: Little Women  
Series: Tempo and Rhythm  
Characters/Pairings: Jo/Laurie  
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sex in the 2nd Part; R-Rated Version at  
Summary: Jo, Laurie and a piano. You may as well commence with the writhing...**

* * *

_Last Chapter_:

And when he finally finished inside his Jo, he pressed his face to hers even as he pulled back and came against the warmth of her body and the wood of his piano, both of them welcoming and supporting him in the shaky moment afterward, as though determined to bring him back home.  


* * *

He found himself being kissed in the aftermath, slowly, softly and tenderly. It took his drowsy mind a little by surprise, since he'd long become accustomed to rolling over afterward and falling asleep soon after, a custom that Jo usually laughed at right before she joined him in the land of dreams. But right now, even after he'd just finished having one of the most satisfying nights of his life, his inner Lazy Laurence was left wondering why on earth he didn't have Jo on one side and a pillow on the other, both ready to cushion him as he slumbered away contentedly.

But then he lifted his heavy eye-lids and saw his piano in the background and Jo straddling him playfully in front of it and thought: _Oh. That would explain it. I suppose I can't get away with playing the husband card after letting her do all that work._

Still, for form's sake, Laurie smiled, lifting his hands up to stroke the bruises forming on Jo's hipbones and asked, very tenderly, "And just how did we get here?"

Her answer was prompt and a little mischievous. "I hardly know how to describe it precisely. I suppose it'd be best to describe it as wrestling your swooning body down. Incidentally-- and I mean this without offense, merely to show my concern for your ends-- but incidentally, have you been getting a mite bit fleshy as of late?"

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed," Laurie said, pretending to be bashful and pulling her laughing self down to him until she lay all over a frame that was nearly as slender as it had been the year they had finally married. And then, once he had her nose pressed sweetly against his, he went on, trying to look heart-broken and embattled. "Oh, Josephinny, such is my secret shame!"

She laughed once more, even as she scrambled off him to make her way to his side, wriggling until she could rest her head on his out-stretched arm and grin at him with her wicked eyes. "Oh, but of course, my dear. And isn't that a very brave thing for you to say."

"I always do my best for you," Laurie replied, this time striving for bashful. And then, quirking a smile at her, he looked deep into her gaze again-- into those beautiful eyes he would never cease to marvel at, the ones he would always want to gaze at the world with by her side-- and whispered in a manner that fully bespoke his love:

"I hope the piano doesn't stain."

"Why would the piano...?" Jo began wonderingly, before stopping short and looking at him, a scandalized blush flooding her cheeks as comprehension hit her with the force of a runaway train wreaking havoc through a city. "Teddy! You can't possibly mean--!'

He smiled complacently, casting his eyes at the large, elegant instrument just beyond them. "Oh, don't worry so, darling. It's fine, polished wood after all. Our present actions on it likely just added a little bit more luster."

Jo made a noise that sounded like a chicken being firmly strangled by a trombone, and Laurie had to fear for his shins for a moment before she dropped down to bury her face in the crook of his arm again, her shoulders wildly shaking. And when she finally looked up, her face was still scarlet but bemused again, even as she shook it at him gravely.

"You, sir," she portentously said, "will one day be the death of me." And then, after flickering her own worried gaze at the piano, she muttered: "Are you quite _sure_ we haven't damaged the thing?"

"Absolutely," Laurie promised, shaking his head gravely back. "It's a sturdy piece of work and if I didn't break its twin by pounding on it all hours of the night after you rejected me the first time years back in Conchord, I doubt my noble partner will be injured from a bit of pounding in another sense entirely."

For all his reassurances, Laurie knew he would still need to check it tomorrow to see if something actually _had_ bent or cracked, and he could only hope that if such was the case, repairing it would not end up being too time-consuming or costly. Still, he didn't want to worry Jo, and so he simply smiled again and asked, only half-playfully: "So does this mean this magical night of ours will only be once happening?"

Jo smiled back and though a slight flush remained on her cheeks, she seemed a little more game than before as she smiled back at him. "That depends on-- as you put it earlier-- whether or not we incurred any property damages. I enjoyed it too but if we really want to be mad without expenses, we could always go at it in the bedroom. Next time, you could always just throw me up against the wall and make a big to-do. Doesn't that sound the least bit interesting?"

It very much did. Laurie took a minute to picture the scenario and stare down at her breasts, which had gone rosy again, before Jo sighed, lightly slapped him upside the head to make him focus on her eyes again, and went on practically.

"Not to mention, it'll make crawling into bed in the aftermath a mite easier. After all, this is incredibly romantic and what-not but we've got rehearsals for our operetta tomorrow and we need to get some sleep. How else are you going to chew out tease all our singers tomorrow about not dedicating enough to all those sleepless hours you spent composing?"

"That's fair enough," Laurie agreed, turning slightly so he could stroke the corona of her hair as she rested on his chest, one of her hands against his ribs as his heart beat vibrantly against the curve of her cheek. "When I finally get the feeling back in my legs, we'll clamber up to our bed again and start dreaming of rehearsing." And after she stopped laughing at him and his dark eyes met her gray ones again, he ventured forth with the question that had been burning in him ever since she had come up with her brilliant idea-- although he'd held it in reserve while they'd happily gone on with the actual consummating.

After all, with Jo, there was a time and a place for everything. And Laurie had long adapted himself to her strange rhythms, had long learned with a musician's gusto on when and where to start singing.

"Jo, for curiosity's sake, I have to ask. Why were you pretending to be afraid of being less creative than me?"

She went stiff under his searching hand as soon as she heard that, as though she'd looked into the face of a gorgon or her old Aunt March and turned to stone immediately. And if she had been with anybody else, with anybody who hadn't spent so much time understanding and deciphering the secret language of her neck and her mouth and the hands and her eyes, Laurie might have let her go out of pity. But he had not spent the last twelve years taking careful study of the former Jo March for nothing and so, he was not in the least deterred by the answer she gave with her eyes locked on his chest, as though her eyes developed a sudden allergy to looking at him fully.

"I," Jo said in that crisp way she used only when she was very upset or he had caught her at something, "have no idea whatsoever what you mean."

"I admit I have to doubt that," Laurie replied swiftly, even as he curved his fingers around his wife's cheek and tried to pet her back to complacency. And when he garnered nothing but resistance for all his efforts, he sighed but went on, gratified that though she was being stubborn about this, she wasn't pulling away, which would have spelled disaster seriously.

"Come on, Jo," he said consolingly, trying to melt her worries slowly but surely. "I know you like to worry but you've never worried about your talent relative to mine before so if you wanted us to do what we just did, you must have had other reasons entirely." And then, after a few more brushes of his hand through her hair made her sigh and relax into his curved form a little more, he went on. "I enjoyed this, I truly did-- and I _will_ repeat this with you as often and anywhere that as you please. Only..."

And here he stopped himself to take her hand in his, their fingers interlacing and curving before Laurie brought hers up to kiss intently, his gaze steady on hers, his eyes never wavering even as hers dropped uncertainly.

"Only I do want you to be honest with me. Jo, why did you _really_ suggest doing this? And why are you trying to hide the reason from me?"

She looked at him wonderingly for a second, whatever dilemma she was going through avid in her eyes though her hand stayed tight on his. But after his eyes failed to waver from hers and his smile remained steady, she gave a faint, doubtful sigh and said, "Are you sure you want to know? It's... well... it's downright _silly_, Teddy. Your intelligence may dip to new lows after hearing of it, and of hearing of what a foolish woman you'll be spending the rest of your life with! You might want to leave this Pandora's box be."

He had to shake his head at that, though his hand kept stroking her palm with ease. "I'm very used to you being foolish, Jo, and I doubt you could much surprise me. You being silly and me being superior is half the basis of our marriage, after all." Then, after he intercepted and grinned at Jo's reflexive swipe at him, he went on more seriously. "And of course I'd be happy to know. If you could put up with me after hearing about the idiocies I got up to in my misbegotten youth, I can't see how this could harm us much."

Which was only God's own truth, of course, and the reason why they were so suited so well. The world loved to unbalance them from time to time, but it could never do it to the two of them together. One of them would remain on their feet as the other went down, ready to help their best-friend, lover and partner.

She'd done it so often for him before that it was only fair that he now did the same for her. And Jo's face wavered queerly and tenderly at that, as though the bridge between them that they'd long built out of friendship, and companionship, and shared fantasies let her know as much without words.

Perhaps it did. Perhaps it accounted for her present kiss, the one she had to lean over awkwardly to give, her mouth was soft, gentle, low and loving even as she had to contort her neck into strange angles to reach him, as she kissed him as though he'd flayed a dragon or two for her already. And after it was over and he let her go with a pleased murmur, she pressed her head against his shoulder and went, her voice a worried murmur.

"It's just that... well, don't you sometimes feel as though we're getting a little too old to keep making merry as we've done, these last few years? Sometimes I feel like we're still... still young and wild and in our adolescence, rather than nearly _thirty._ And I know we've been doing well for ourselves but... but sometimes I compare us to Meg and John or Amy and Fred and I think we're... we're falling behind and being immature and... Oh, Teddy, am I making sense at all or am I simply raving?"

Laurie did not think it was prudent to admit to that last part, although her words were a little less than coherent to him presently. Whatever he had been expecting from Jo, this was _not_ the complaint he'd been prepared to receive. But life with Jo had long taught him to be flexible and with that nimbleness that characterized him at his best, he recovered soon, pausing only to wrap his arms securely around Jo before he began speaking. And though his next words were careful, they were still very sincere.

"I have to admit I haven't really had those thoughts about us falling behind my self, dear Jo. I thought we were both very happy. So what brought them on in you, dear girl? Say anything you need to-- I promise I won't take it personally!"

If Jo had looked embarrassed before, she looked on the verge of mortification now-- or at least, she did in whatever part of her face he could still see after she buried it in his shoulder again. "Please don't!" she said, her voice muffled against his body. "This has nothing to do with you _personally_, Teddy-- not when you've been about the best husband I've yet seen! Any other man would have likely chucked me into the Hudson by now for being so impossible. But you've always been brilliant when soothing this beast."

Then she went on, her voice still rough with humiliation but as honest as it ever was when she confessed something. "It's simply... we're both twenty-eight, Teddy, and we've been married for four years. And these years have been-- oh, I won't lie-- they've been brilliant, and every bit as adventurous and wonderful as I'd always hoped my grown-up years would be. But we're nearly thirty and we're so busy with work and soon we'll probably be having a-- a baby and--"

And if _he_ had been surprised before, that was nothing compared to the shock and amazement he faced presently. Bolting upright and accidentally jolting Jo out of her supine state, he gazed at her with dark, startled eyes that had gone nearly as wide as dinner-plates.

"Jo!" he cried, and his voice cracked in a way it hadn't since puberty. "Oh, God, Jo, are you... are you... are you saying...?"

But instead of confessing that she had a precious secret inside of her as he half-expected her to, Jo only stared at him for a minute before she burst out laughing helplessly. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly the reaction he would have expected from a pregnant woman, especially on the heels of not-especially-genteel sex... but expecting the ordinary from Jo was an exercise in futility. So Laurie continued looking fervently at her in hopes of a denial or confirmation until her wild laughter finally died fully.

"No, Teddy!" his wife eventually cried when she could start speaking without being interrupted by as much giggling than his ego could take. "Not yet! And not in the least! But... but maybe..."

And just like that, Jo turned shy and soft again, in that way she could do only when she knew and loved someone dearly. She turned shy and although it might have been strange and odd and unlikely and unexpected to anyone who knew the gay, bright, bold Mrs. Theodore Laurence as a wife or playwright or novelist or even actress--

Laurie thought he understood it anyhow. Understood it, and knew it, and loved it.

"But in a year or two, maybe," Jo murmured and raised those great gray eyes of her up at him with a breathtaking amount of hope. "If... if you'd like to consider it?"

He was silent for a long time after that, merely thinking, thinking and looking, reflecting on the thought of children: a little boy with his fingers or a little girl with Jo's way of laughing or whatever other strange blend of love and strangeness that would result in a family. And when he could finally speak again, when his breath had returned back to him, his words were accompanied by his arms sliding around her again, his cheek pressed to her cheek.

"God yes," he said, and watched the smile break out over her beloved face instantly. "The only thing I ever wanted more than that is you, Jo. Don't you ever think differently!"

It was the right thing to say; he meant it whole-heartedly. And if she had looked happy in his arms before before, she looked radiant suddenly. With her cheeks flushed, her lips curved and her gaze gone so bright, she suddenly looked every inch the luminous shadow next door he had dreamed of so ardently back when he had been a lonely boy with barely any family.

She had been his fairy tale before; she remained the fulfillment of one presently. And though she might never know how much she meant and how much she had done, he would have done anything to repay her for the life she'd given him presently.

"I'm... I'm glad," she managed, when she could, the warmth of her voice twining with tenderness and surprise, as though she hadn't expected his kindness in the least. "I mean, I knew-- more or less-- that you would want to eventually but this is... I'm glad I have... well... confirmation now and..."

And she might have gone on stuttering if he hadn't gently shushed her with a kiss, one that pressed her nose to his and soothed her with his loving lips and stole her stammered words until she was sighing against him softly. And when he pulled back and smoothed her dark hair back from her brow, he could only chuckle at her warmth and unexpected bashfulness-- and at the worry he knew was still pinning her presently.

"But as happy as you are, you think after we've a bundle of joy or two on our doorstep from the stork, we shan't ever try the varnish on my piano again so eagerly."

A blush broke out on Jo immediately, one that was more ferocious even than the one that had colored her face as she had spread herself open for him and stroked herself intently. "Well... well, no!" she protested, somehow managing to sound both indignant and embarrassed. "I mean-- surely we _couldn't._ It would... would set a bad example for the children and... and it's improper enough for us to do this without them and if they were added in..."

Only he'd known Jo for nearly a decade and a half now and he knew when he heard an urge to be persuaded into thinking otherwise in her voice. And between the plaintive note in her throat and the half-vixenish, half-shy gaze she was shooting at him from beneath her long lashes...

Well, Laurie had not spent fifteen years studying his lovely bride in order to miss clues that were _quite_ that obvious. And he full well knew that while there were some things on which Jo was absolutely immovable... on a few other matters, she was very amenable to thinking differently indeed. She might _believe_ they had to resign each other to being a stodgy couple raising children... but that didn't mean she was looking _forward_ to it completely.

"I think you exaggerate a tad," he pointed out with great care. "After all, seeing as how we're not depraved maniacs-- or at least, we're not around _others_-- I'm sure we could keep ourselves discreet. Children have to sleep at _some_ point and when they do..."

He lifted the hand not curling around her at the piano and made a grand gesture.

"I'm sure _that_ will still be waiting."

Her mouth opened and closed silently for several moments after that, until she looked rather like a very lovely guppy. And when she finally felt it beneath her dignity to keep on going as he tried not to snicker, Jo burst out at last.

"But-- no-- Teddy, we _can't!_"

He flashed a wicked grin and brought both of his arms around her again, holding her secure to him. "Truly? Can't we?"

"I mean," Jo began, and somehow managed to look as shy but eager as she had during their wedding night, when he had pressed his lips to her for the first time and driven her to ecstasy. "I mean, technically, I suppose we _could_ but--" And then she shoved at him a little, as she caught him grinning cheekily. "But we _shouldn't._ Parents shouldn't _do_ things like that. We've already been... mad enough and it wouldn't be right because..."

"You only want to stop at one child?" Laurie asked, genuinely confused now. "Because we've been successful in preventing you from being in the family way so far and I don't know why we won't keep being so even after you give birth. I'm always very careful in withdrawing, Jo. Surely you're not afraid I'll lose control so easily?"

Jo smiled a little wanly. "Of that? No. But..." And here, her mouth jerked slightly, as though she were arguing with herself even as she argued with him. "It's just... it wouldn't be _decent_, Teddy. I mean, I'm sure my parents didn't and they were the most splendid parents possible!"

"I'd agree with that last part," Laurie said immediately. "Your parents are absolutely the sort of people we ought to emulate with our own little darlings. But still..."

And though he knew he was practically leading himself to a kick in the shin, he had to go on, feeling rather puckish.

"Didn't your parents have four children in about as many years?"

Jo shot him a look of horror that suggested she had no idea where she was going but she was taking care to feel distress preemptively.

"Doesn't that suggest rather more passion existed between them than you'd care to admit?"

Her look of horror only increased exponentially.

"And," Laurie went on, likely feeling rather more enjoyment than he should given her stricken face, "how can you be sure they necessarily conceived you in your standard bed anyhow? If anything, you probably came to being in front of the March family library. Which probably means for the good of our children, we'll simply _have_ to keep going in unorthodox places. It might give them a head start on genius, dear."

And then Jo rounded her look of horror with an element of sheer bafflement, until it was Laurie's turn to laugh until she interrupted sardonically.

"'Well, I hope you enjoyed this evening," Jo muttered as he sputtered out into faint snorts and chuckles. "After those images you slipped into my head, we will never do this again, with or without having babies."

"Don't worry, my dear," Laurie somehow managed to say, in between the last of his snorts. "You'll get them soon enough. I have complete faith in my ability-- with or without a piano-- to change your mind eventually."

Jo gave him a look of disbelief so concentrated, he had to kiss her again until his teasing lips on the line of her jaw made her sigh and smile reluctantly. And when it was over, she gave her own rueful chuckle against his lips and admitted, "I just... don't want us to get bored or boring later on in life. But I don't want us to end up raising a crop of deviants either."

"Are you sure?" Laurie playfully asked. "They might turn out interesting than the normal dull darlings in your very average family."

He earned a swat upside the head for that but it was worth it to make he laugh, even if she looked a little like she might want to hit him again, and even more painfully. But after he rolled over and had her reddened face underneath him, his voice turned serious even as he leaned down to kiss her nose lightly.

"And don't worry so, Jo. There's an enormous difference between having a passionate set of loving parents, and having a mother and father mad enough to warp you fully. After all, my father _eloped_ with my mother just to be with her, and you can bet their life after me wasn't a placid one. And didn't I turn out well, considering my odd early years?"

Jo raised her eyebrow at that, as though she felt this was a question that had many possible answers and she wasn't sure which of them she wanted to give. But after he pulled a tragic pout at her, she finally laughed and gave in, even as she began wiggling out from under his frame in a way that made him want to keep on holding.

"You turned out _wonderfully_," Jo finally admitted, once she'd gotten free and was by his side again, still smiling. "And our children will as well, I hope, even if we keep being so uncanny."

And then she laughed and gazed at him with that well of heart-breaking tenderness that he never fully cease to be amazed at, that would never truly stop making blessed beyond anything. It was the very same laugh she'd given him the first time they'd met, and the same laugh he hoped would be with him all the way to his twilight years.

"I love you, you lunatic," Jo said, still gazing at him in that way that made him feel as though he'd grown seven extra feet. "I love you completely. Even if you're so mad, you make _me_ seem like the pinnacle of normalcy."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," he replied honestly, which really only proved her point and made her grin again brightly.

"So now what will we be doing?" she asked, once that grin of hers faded and was replaced by a yawn slowly. "Now that you've come to the rescue and once more saved me from my own idiocy?"

"Make that your _eccentricity_," he corrected, and kissed her on her nose again, making her giggle softly. Then he rolled over, got up and held his arm out to her, to help her rise to her feet. "And I was thinking we could tackle the stairs, bed, covers, sleep and operetta rehearsals, with just enough time left over to later worry about children and happy endings."

"That's a good plan," Jo said, smiling again as she let him pull her up, until her head was again by his shoulder and they were swaying together, as though they were ready to start dancing. "And when did you get so brilliant anyway? Teddy, you might just be giving me yet more reason to feel mortified by comparison eventually."

"Which works perfectly well," he replied, hoisting her in his arms as though she were once again a new bride, as she made faces and shook her hair at him as she was taken by surprise. "Seeing as how you feeling so this time around led to such a wonderful evening!"

She raised a warm, sleepy eyebrow at him, her arms coming up to loop around his neck even as she kicked up playfully. "So you're saying that this is all part of your master plan for future nights by your instrument? My, you _must_ be brilliant then. Let's only hope that our future progeny inherit as much when they come into the world screaming."

"Oh, they will," he promising, hoisting her up and taking her away and already grinning madly. "Between your mind and mine, we could do anything. And the children would no doubt be giants who could swipe the floor with anyone who tried to best them in anything. Absolutely, utterly, astonishingly and with amazing curiosity--"

And by the time he had her bouncing in their bed once more, she was already laughing.

* * *

**Author's Note**: This is probably the last mini-series on Jo and Laurie that I'll ever write. Queer to put that down but... c'est la vie. Please review if you've enjoyed this! It always cheers me.


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